Night falls, death comes

1am;
I sat there for a long while, dazed and confused, looking up every time someone walked past me. It is very hard to find a familiar face at a hospital; everyone is at the end of their own desperation. Its survival, you know. Either you win or you’re gone.

12am;
I went over and knocked on the window, she looked up, and I could see that there was no feeling there, no remorse, no empathy. When she asked me for the money, I opened his wallet, took out a twenty and gave it to her. He was still lying on the stretcher, they had pulled the oxygen mask over his face and he was breathing very heavily, looked like he was struggling.

I watched him, his bare chest lifting up with each gasp of air. They had removed his shirt. And his eyes, they were wide open, and it looked like a scream was coming.

I went over, held his hand and tried to assure him that he would be alright, I'm not sure if I was trying to convince him or me. I went around to the side and sat next to him. The guy in the navy uniform, he came over and pulled the stretcher into the casualty room, or whatever they call them rooms in the emergency ward.

Another guy, who seemed to have more authority came at me, and asked me what had happened, what he ate and how it all happened for him to be in this state. I told him all I knew, but I had no answers for all the other questions.

I told him how he had awoken in the middle of night asking for some painkillers, headache tablets or whatever. That he went into the bathroom, and closed the door behind him. I didn’t tell him that after some time, while he was in there, my sister came out of their bedroom, laughing a bit and mumbling something about how he gets like this when he gets sick. He was screaming then, though the sound was a bit muffled, like he was gasping for air or something, making gurgling sounds like there were bubbles in his throat. She swung the door back, and she too started screaming.

I was in the lounge, I rushed for the door, and then I saw him, lying with his back on the bathtub, his head swung back and with blood coming out of his mouth, he was still trying to scream, and screaming. I reached over and tried to pull him up, his knees were taut and I couldn’t get him up, I yelled for her to help me lift him, but he wasn’t moving. I was shit scared.

My nephew also awoke in the midst of this, he is a curious little dude, the lights in the lounge were now on, and he was peeping into the bathroom, though his eyes were still a bit sleepy, he wanted to know what was going on? Eight years old he was, we had been playing FIFA 99 the evening before and he was getting good at it. I snapped at him and told him to go back into the room and shut the door behind him.

He was always scared of me when I spoke to him firmly. My brother was awake as well; he didn’t know what to do. We were all at our wits end I suppose. But he didn’t ask what was going on; he only had to go into the bathroom to find out.

We on the first floor right, the night was dead quiet outside, and its past midnight now. I reached for the mustard Ericsson that my aunt bought for me for Christmas. I loved that phone.

I went out the house and called 112, the emergency line, I asked for an ambulance and the operator told me there was none for the area that we living in. The only ambulance available was called in for another emergency a couple of minutes back and would be gone a while. We would either wait or drive to the hospital.

The neighbours had their lights on now, and they peeping out the windows, wondering about the noise and trying to see what was going on.

I went out through the gates of the complex, had a nervous smoke and tried the number again. There was still no ambulance coming. Just the one for the area and it was deployed elsewhere. Damn. I took out another cigarette and walked back in.